Silent Night
by E350
Summary: Christmas is just around the corner in Cartoonia. But when a severe blizzard strands a train in the mountains, and help is slow to help them, it all comes down to Sandy, and a few other unlikely rescuers... Rated for safety. Pairings will vary, SB/SC
1. Prologue

It is not three hours into December and yet I'm putting up my Christmas fic. To be fair, though, this has been lying around for a while, and I thought I'd incorporate it into the fic.

The main cast (more then just Nicktoons, this time!) will appear in the next chapter. Sorry about that.

* * *

><p><strong>Silent Night<strong>

_A Christmas Fic by E350_

**Prologue**

_24th December, 1914  
>The Western Front<em>

"You see anything, Bob?"

"A bit of activity, Jim," replied Bob, peering through the trench mirror, "Doesn't look military, though. Seems like Jerry's content to leave be tonight."

"Good, I was hoping for a quiet Christmas," nodded Jim, brushing snow from his sleeve, "Good night, mate. Have a good watch."

"Yeah," sniffed Bob, rolling his eyes, "I'll try."

He went back to looking through the trench mirror. The German trench was lit up, which seemed a bit odd to him. Why would they put such light out? A good sniper could easily shoot them out in the light.

Then, he heard a peculiar sound drifting from the enemy trench.

"Oi, Jim!" he called.

The other man had been about to crawl back into his dugout. Groaning, he walked back.

"Bloody hell, Bob, I want to go to sleep…"

He paused as the strange sound was blown to him on the wind.

"_Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Alles schläft; einsam wacht…"_

"…what the bleeding hell?" quizzed Jim.

"Sounds like Silent Night," mused Bob.

"Can't be," snapped Jim, "It's in German."

Bob passed Jim a rather unimpressed look.

"Shut up and listen, Jim."

"_Nur das traute hochheilige Paar. _

_Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,_

_Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh! Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!"_

"…hmm, might well be Silent Night, eh Bob?" shrugged Jim, "Bob?"

Bob wasn't listening.

"_Silent night, holy night,_

_Shepherds quake at the sight…"_

"_Durch der Engel Halleluja,_

_Tönt es laut von fern und nah…"_

"_Christ the Saviour is born…"_

"_Christ, der Retter ist da…"_

"Bob?" exclaimed Jim, "What are you doing? They're the enemy!"

His voice, however, was drowned out as a handful of men emerged from their dugouts, singing.

"_Silent night, holy night,_

_Son of God, love's pure light…"_

"_Lieb' aus deinem göttlichen Mund,_

_Da uns schlägt die rettende Stund…"_

"_Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth…"_

"_Christ, in deiner Geburt…"_

By the end, even Jim had joined in.

At the end of the song, a tall German leaned out of the trench, no regard for cover or enemy fire.

"No fire, Tommy!" he called, in broken English, "Truce for Christmas, ja?"

"We'll need to call an officer for that," a soldier muttered.

"No we don't!" retorted another, "It's Christmas! Stuff the bloody officers!"

"What do you think, Corp?" asked a third soldier, looking at Bob, "You're ranking. What do we do?"

Bob looked at his men, and then at the Germans, who were walking out of their trenches into No Man's Land.

"Go get the Sarge, Bob," said Jim, "We could catch Jerry in the open…"

Bob made up his mind, and heaved himself out of the trench, walking without his rifle to the Germans.

"He's out of his mind," sighed Jim.

He was ignored by the two men that followed Bob, and the four men that followed them. Before long, scores of British and German troops were in No Man's Land – not shooting or fighting, but exchanging words and small gifts.

* * *

><p>The 1914 Christmas Truce was the only one of its kind in the First World War and it was harshly punished by British and German commanders. Nevertheless, it was fondly remembered by those who took part.<p>

As the years went by, those involved died, one by one. Little titbits would survive, here and there – an old cigarette case, perhaps, or maybe a watch.

Yes, maybe a watch…

* * *

><p>This particular event is fictional, but the spontanious Christmas Truce is 100% true.<p> 


	2. Chapter 1: Festive Spirit?

And away we go.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Best thing about it is it's true, as well! :D Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** You'd be dead on. ;) Glad someone likes my history stuff. Thanks for reviewing!

**Gokiburi Prince:** Yep, timezones are a sod. Thanks for the review!

**Third Kind:** It really is, isn't it? Thanks very much!

**Cartoonatic55:** You should look it up. It's an incredible event to read up on. :) Thanks!

**aslan333: **Thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One: Festive Spirit?<strong>

Chaos swamped the platform at Point Walt Halt. So did steam.

It was Christmas Eve, and families and friends were leaving Point Walt, heading to the larger towns and cities to spend Christmas with their loved ones. Porters rushed to and fro with heavy bags and trolleys of luggage. Passengers let out their frustration on the ticket office staff, who in turn let out their frustration on the passengers.

Just another Christmas rush for the railway staff.

Among the confused mess of steam and humanity, a single gleeful face could be observed skipping through the crowds, humming to himself.

Spongebob was leaving the station, two tickets in hand. He and Patrick were planning on heading down to the Big City. The only tickets available were on the unpopular evening train, that didn't get in until late, but he didn't mind.

Why did he want to go to the city for Christmas, you might ask?

The answer was simple. Every year, on Christmas Day, the Mayor put on a Christmas Party in the city square. It was a pretty big thing, but Spongebob had never been to it before. It went without saying that he was excited about it.

Not far away, the railway crew were preparing the last train for its departure. It was a modest affair – a small blue tank engine headed the train. Behind it were two green-and-cream coaches, a single mail coach, a coal hopper to supply the villages along the line and a brake van.

The Christmas Rush had been too much for the staff alone, so volunteers had been called to fill vacancies. Frankie was one such volunteer, acting as guard for slower trains. Right now, however, she was helping the driver and fireman shovel coal into the engine's bunker.

The fireman, Aaron, was a nice enough person, but the driver had gained a degree of infamy among the railwaymen. Rather an old codger, Evan Coulter had worked on engines for forty years, and had spent thirty-nine of them complaining about absolutely everything.

As the crew worked on the engine, they were passed by a porter. The porter bade them a Merry Christmas – Coulter sniffed.

Outside the station, the town's main street was covered in a thin layer of snow, looking almost like a postcard image. The townsfolk went about their business with good spirits and a spring in their step. The Christmas spirit had well-and-truly infected them all.

Nestled between the post office and general store was a small pawn shop, dusty and dingy but decorated for the season.

This is where our story begins.

* * *

><p>Abe Simpson looked at the watch through a microscope.<p>

"Hmm," he muttered, "Says here that it was made by a guy called Seigbert Gunther in 1913."

"So, what does that mean? Is it special or somethin'?"

"I dunno. I'm just covering for the regular guy why he's on vacation."

Sandy sighed, and took back the watch.

"So, you can't tell me anything about this?" she asked.

"Nope," replied Abe, "Not a thing. You know, in my day if you got a watch, you kept it! I remember when I got a watch from President Madison himself! Grover Cleveland stole it on two non-consecutive occasions…"

Sandy left the old man to his ranting and emerged back onto the street.

"Tarnation," she sighed, "Ain't there anyone who can tell me about this."

Last month, a very distant relative of Sandy's had died, and the watch had, for some reason, been willed to her. Naturally, this had seemed strange to her, so she had decided to find out the history behind it.

She was not having much luck.

Still, she thought, it was Christmas. While she lived far away from her family, she could still spend it with Spongebob and Patrick. After all, they weren't going to Spongebob's parents' place this year. They weren't going skiing in the hills this year, either. For once, she'd have someone to share the holiday with.

As she trudged back through the snow, she ran into Spongebob.

"Hey Sandy!" the sponge grinned.

"Oh, howdy Spongebob," nodded Sandy, "Y'all looking mighty happy today."

"Yep!" chimed Spongebob, "Guess who's going to the City Christmas Party?"

Sandy paused.

"There something wrong?" asked Spongebob.

Shaking her head, she smiled.

"No, nothing," replied Sandy, "Just…nothing."

"Well, okay then!" said Spongebob, obliviously, "I'll see you later!"

He ran on, laughing.

Sandy sighed.

"Just gonna be alone on Christmas again, is all," she muttered, walking on.

* * *

><p>Box 19 was a small Signalbox nestled on the hillsides. Its usual crew had taken leave for the winter, so its operation fell to volunteers…and those with community service sentences.<p>

Squidward sighed as he sipped at his hot cocoa, taking in the limited heat of the ineffective old heater. Not for the first time, he wondered how he'd ended up in such a desolate, freezing box in the middle of nowhere.

"Hey, Squiddy, go check the points."

Squidward groaned as one of his fellow signalmen, Laura, entered the main room. With the box being the size of a large cupboard, he had much enjoyed his 'me time'.

"Do I have to?" asked Squidward.

"Yes," snapped Laura.

Groaning, Squidward climbed to his feet and opened the door. His eyebrows rose.

Four young carollers had gathered at the door.

_"Good King Wenceslas last looked out, on the feast of…"_

The carollers paused.

"Line?" asked Lor.

"Stephen," deadpanned Tino.

Squidward listened to the carollers, unimpressed.

_"…gath'ring winter fuel. Hitler…_"

"Hither!" shouted Tino.

"Uh, yeah, _Hither…_"

"Goodnight," sighed Squidward, beginning to close the door.

"No, wait, we know other carols!" shouted Tish.

"Yeah!" nodded Carver, "Like…like…"

_"We three kings of __Oregon__ are…_" Lor began.

"_Orient!_" shouted Tino, "It's _Orient!_"

"Ooh, I got one!" exclaimed Carver, "_Frosty the Snowman…lalalalala…_"

"No, no, how about this?" interrupted Tish, "_Angels we have heard on high_…_I can't remember the rest."_

"_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,_" sang Tino, "_A…_a…c'mon, what is it?"

"_Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, jingle all the…_clay?" quizzed Lor.

"_How do you mess up _Jingle Bells?" demanded Tino.

Squidward rolled his eyes, and slammed the door.

"Well, we sucked," said Carver.

Back inside Box 19, Squidward headed to the back door as Laura stared at the main one.

"…that was random," she said at last.

"Yeah, well, that's why I hate Christmas," nodded Squidward, "Everyone tries to force joy and laughter on you."

"Oh come on," said Laura, "They don't all sound that bad!"

"Whatever you say," mumbled Squidward as he left the Box.

There was a clank, and the bathroom door opened. The third volunteer, a person who called himself E350, walked out.

"Did I miss something strange?" he asked.

"Yep," nodded Laura.

"Darn it," E3 cursed.

* * *

><p>Just in case I've lost anyone, the carollers are the Weekenders.<p>

Also, never let me write a montage again.


	3. Chapter 2: The Last Train

This chapter isn't as good as the last, but it forwards the plot.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** CURSES! DISCOVERED! D: Thanks for reading!

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**Third Kind:** Yep. ;) Also, glad to cheer you up! :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Glad you liked 'em! Thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** On the bright side, they sucked epically. :) You'll see about the watch... Thanks very much!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two: The Last Train<strong>

The sun went down quickly that day.

It was already licking the horizon at five o'clock, as the last train was preparing to leave. For the final time that day, the station was filled chaos as the porters tossed baggage into the coaches and tried not to be crushed by people getting on and off the train.

Spongebob and Patrick climbed onto the first coach, quickly finding a seat in the half-filled carriage. They began to talk animatedly about tomorrow's events.

In the cab, Evan Coulter grumbled dreadfully as he checked the various gauges. Aaron stoked the boiler and pretended not to hear his partner.

Back in the brakevan, Frankie made sure that the all the braking equipment was working before climbing out and preparing to wave the train off.

A few minutes later, she blew the whistle and waved the green flag before jumping back onto the van.

With a shrill whistle, the engine's wheels began to move. For a few seconds, they slipped on the icy rails, but they soon found grip and the train rolled out of the station.

* * *

><p>The train made good time as it rolled through the icy mountainsides, and by the time the sun was down, it was well on its way.<p>

It passed a Signalbox and thundered into a tunnel. It was a small, tight thing – the railwaymen called it the Rat Tunnel. Once out of this tunnel, it descended the steep cliffs into the Pinner Valley.

Now, the snow was really coming down, and Evan found it hard to see the line ahead from the small cab window.

The snow storm created thick drifts over the countryside. Usually, there were small walls beside the line to prevent excess snow from piling onto the track, but the volume of snow was so thick that it simply buried the walls and created a massive heap over the line.

The train hit the snowdrift at high speed. While it wasn't derailed by the impact, the snow was too heavy to push through, and the train ground to a halt.

Evan swore (at least, it sounded like a swear – his voice was very gruff, and it was hard to tell) and threw the engine into reverse. The wheels turned fiercely, but it was little good – the train was well and truly stuck.

* * *

><p>Sandy was walking down the street, feeling miserable. She'd eaten dinner and tried to sleep, but the house just felt to quiet and empty. Even when no-one else was around, she could invent or practice karate, but the science suppliers were all off for Christmas and the temperature was too cold for practice.<p>

She sighed.

"Well, here's to another lousy Christmas," she muttered to herself.

It just wasn't fair. Every year, all of her friends (all both of them, in fact) went off and did something else for Christmas. Hadn't she introduced the dang holiday to them in the first place? Why was she always left out?

She was just passing the station building when she heard talking from inside.

"…yeah, passed Box 18 and never turned up again."

"Probably an accident. We can send down the Breakdown Train and be done with it…"

"No we can't – the line's snowed under for miles. Unless you've got a really good shovel, we won't get it through for _weeks_."

"Blimey…what do we do then?"

"Control's sent a snowblower up from the Top Shed – with luck, we can have the train found by morning."

"With luck?"

"Between you and me? If this storm's as bad as they say, we'll be digging them out in _February._"

Sandy's eyes widened.

The only train that could possibly be stuck on that section of line was Spongebob and Patrick's.

"So…why not send a chopper?" one of the railwaymen asked.

"They'd never see anything – it'd just be a great big blob of white."

"Let's hope you're wrong about the snowblower, then."

"Don't bet on it, mate. Nothings getting through that snow."

Sandy clenched her fists.

"That's where you're wrong," she whispered.

She stormed off into the snow.

* * *

><p>It was a small shack on the edge of town. A small stereo was buried in snow outside, playing a distorted old recording of 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.' There was a single bit of tinsel hanging from the roof. The sign proclaimed 'Dr. John Zoidberg – Sleigh Supplies.' Underneath was another sign that read 'It has been 12374 days since we sold something.'<p>

"Business is booming," said Sandy, wryly.

She walked into the shack. The inside was just as sad as the exterior, with a single sled lying on its side in a pile of dust. A husky slept in the corner, snoring loudly. Zoidberg himself was sitting on a stool, reading a newspaper.

"You Dr. Zoidberg?" asked Sandy.

Zoidberg put down the newspaper.

"Oh joy, a customer!" he exclaimed, "Let me show you my wares!"

He pointed to the sled.

"…and that is my wares," he finished.

Sandy blinked.

"Okay then," she said, "I need the sled and the dog. How much do you want?"

"Fifteen hundred dollars."

Sandy did a double-take.

"You want _how much?_" she gasped, "You're stir crazy!"

"Yes," nodded Zoidberg, "But I'm the only one with a sled in this town. Fifteen hundred."

Sandy raised an eyebrow.

"Tell you what," she decided, "If I can get that mutt over there to come to me and pull the sled, I don't have to pay. And if I can't…"

"You work for me for three years?" suggested Zoidberg.

"You're nuts."

"Yes I am."

Sandy looked at the husky.

"Well, here goes nothin'," she hissed.

* * *

><p>Not ten seconds later, Sandy, the husky and the sled were riding off into the night as Zoidberg looked on.<p>

"Why does everything abandon me?" he sobbed.

* * *

><p>E3 shoved at the door of Box 19, but it didn't budge. He sighed, and turned to his fellow volunteers.<p>

"Well, we're all snowed in," he sighed, "What now?"

Squidward groaned and fell backwards on his chair.

"I'm taking that as a Scrabble vote," nodded E3, walking over to the cupboard.

"I'll get the Dictionary!" nodded Laura.

* * *

><p>NEXT TIME ON SILENT NIGHT: Moar Spongebob stuff, Danny and Jack show up and more on the watch<p> 


	4. Chapter 3: Snow

WARNING: Chapter contains traces of snow.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Yay! I like giving people ideas! :D Thanks for reading.

**aslan333:** Thanks for reviewing.

**TweenisodeOrange:** Quick! Get a really big shovel! XD Thanks for the review.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Zoidberg was fun to write. :P Thanks very much!

**Third Kind:** Scrabble-fight! WHOOO! :D Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three: Snow<strong>

Spongebob and Patrick looked out the window of their compartment on the train. Outside, they could see nothing but frost and snow.

"This is kinda boring," sighed Patrick, "I'm gonna go outside."

"But Patrick, you're only wearing shorts," reminded Spongebob.

"Eh, it's not that cold."

Patrick strode out of the compartment.

Three seconds later, he returned. His skin was blue.

He sat back down next to Spongebob and stared into the distance.

"Uh, Pat?" quizzed Spongebob.

"I'm cold," whimpered Patrick, "So cold."

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the wall. Spongebob looked at the door, and saw a small buck-toothed boy and a redheaded teenage girl standing in the aisle.

"Excuse me?" asked the teenager, "Is there room in here? The heater in this kid's compartment broke."

"Sure, c'mon in!" grinned Spongebob.

The teen and the boy entered the compartment, sitting across from Spongebob and Patrick.

"So, what're your names?" asked Spongebob, brightly.

"Jazz Fenton," said the teen.

"Timmy," shrugged the kid.

"I'm Spongebob," introduced Spongebob, "And that's Patrick!"

"So cold…" muttered Patrick.

"So," asked Spongebob, "What're you all heading into town for?"

"I was going back from college to see my family," replied Jazz, "My parents are ghost hunters, and my brother…"

She coughed.

"…well, we're close, anyway," she finished.

She glanced at Timmy.

"Where're you going?" she asked.

"Vicky's," replied Timmy, glumly, "My parents went to Bermuda for the winter."

"Why didn't they bring you?" asked Jazz.

"…family," muttered Timmy, looking away.

Jazz sensed that he was lying, but decided not to press the issue.

* * *

><p>Up in the cab, Evan Coulter was standing right in front of the fire, warming himself. This prevented any of the warmth from reaching Aaron or Frankie (who had come up to see what was going on), but he didn't care.<p>

"Right, lads," he snarled, "I been tryin' to radio Control but I in't gettin' 'em. We's stuck fast, so I wants you lads to do some work for a change."

Aaron opened his mouth to complain (as a fireman, he did plenty of work), but a glare from Coulter shut him up.

"We's gonna be stuck here for a long time," explained Coulter, "So I wants you to go out and gets some fuel for the fire. We's not got a lot o' coal, and this fire's the only thing keepin' us – meanin' _me _– warm."

"What're you gonna be doing?" asked Frankie.

"I's be doin' the most important job o' all," Coulter sniffed, "Puttin' me feet up for once in me life. Now get movin'. There's some more coal in the 'opper, so start there."

He chuckled as he sat in his seat, basking in the warmth of the fire.

Frankie and Aaron trudged through the snow, heading for the coal hopper.

"Is he always that much of a jerk?" asked Frankie, scowling.

"He's not that bad," shrugged Aaron, "As long as you keep your mouth shut, anyway."

He climbed up onto the hopper, looked inside and swore.

"What's the problem?" demanded Frankie, climbing up after him.

She soon found out. The hopper was nearly empty – two trapdoors at the bottom had been left open, which meant most of the coal had probably been dumped on the track far away.

"Blooming shunters must've opened them by mistake," snapped Aaron.

"Coulter's not gonna like this," gulped Frankie.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the Pinner Valley, another train was lumbering down the line. This one was much larger then the stranded one – a large apple-green engine with 'LNER' marked on the tender pushed at the back, with a 'Works Unit' coach and three open trucks in front of it. Most striking, however, was the massive red snowblower on the front of the train.<p>

The train slowed to a stop as it reached a helmet-wearing, khaki-clad man with a red flag. As it did so, an overweight man stumbled out of the snowblower and landed on his face in the snow.

"Barney Gumble?" the khaki-clad man spluttered, incredulously.

"Hi," slurred Barney, "I'm taking over for the normal guy!"

The khaki-clad man facepalmed.

"Whatever," he groaned, "As long as you know what you're doing."

"Sure thing, President Cleveland!"

Just then, a door on the Works coach flung open, and Jack Fenton leapt out. He was carrying a shovel over his shoulder and dragging Danny with his free hand. He raced up to the khaki-clad man and grinned.

"Major Simmonds, you can go home now!" he declared, "Jack Fenton is here!"

Danny looked as if he were about to die of embarrassment.

"…you're going to find this train with a shovel and a teenager?" quizzed Simmonds.

"Yep!" nodded Jack, "Mads is in the Spectre Speeder – soon as I find this train, I just have to light a Fenton Flare…"

"_Fenton Flare?_"

"Yep, just have to light a Fenton Flare, and she'll bring everyone to safety!"

"Riiight," nodded the Major, "Look, mate, we can use everyone we get here and we're glad you're helping, but…"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence!" beamed Jack, "C'mon Danny! Let's go find this train!"

Jack raced into the snow, still dragging Danny behind.

"Well, they're doomed," sighed Simmonds.

"Yeah!" yelled Barney, "You go find that train, Mr. Churchill!"

Simmonds buried his head in his hands.

* * *

><p>Sandy sat on the sled as it hurtled through the snow, following the railway line. As they sped along, she looked over the watch. It had become stuck – the big hand was on one, the little hand on two.<p>

"Dagnabbit," she sighed, "Dang thing don't even tell the time."

All of a sudden, the sled lurched to a stop, and Sandy nearly fell off. Regaining her composure, she climbed down from the sled and looked at the dog.

"What's wrong, mutt?" she asked.

The dog seemed to point ahead with its paw. Ahead was a long, dark, rocky tunnel – a sign declared that it was the 'Rat Tunnel'.

"Ah, c'mon, boy," reassured Sandy, "It's just a tunnel!"

"Arr, it may look like a mere tunnel, lass, but it be more then meets the eye."

Sandy jumped. A grizzled man was sitting by a hut next to the line. He had a wooden leg and a very large hat. His clothes were old fashioned and largely black.

"Who the heck are you?" demanded Sandy.

"Hector Barbossa," replied Barbossa, matter-of-factly, "And ye'd do good to take my word."

Sandy blinked.

"Legend says that those who enter that tunnel without protection of a chariot o' steel n' fire will invoke the wrath o' all the wretched beasts n' hellspawn who be makin' their den inside. Ye don't want ta risk it, lass."

"I don't believe in monsters," snapped Sandy.

"Ye're a brave one, I give ye that," nodded Barbossa, "But if ye go in there, ye'll be a dead one."

"It's superstition," grunted Sandy, "The trains use this tunnel all the time, and nothing ever happens to them."

"Well, if ye insist," shrugged Barbossa.

He got up from his seat and strode over to the mouth of the tunnel.

"Follow me," he ordered.

Sandy glanced at the dog and then at Barbossa. Shrugging, she followed him, the dog nervously trailing behind.

* * *

><p>That's what more fics need - Hector Barbossa appearing to help the hero. :P<p>

EDIT: Barbossa does not, in fact, posess an eyepatch. Thanks for pointing that out, ZMLS.


	5. Chapter 4: Through the Looking Tunnel

I hope you like tunnels!

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** That is an awesome sentence, though. :P Good luck with the writing! Thanks for reading.

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**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Thanks for telling me that, I wouldn't have noticed (got him mixed up with...well, something else. :P). Glad you liked it, though. Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Through the Looking Tunnel<strong>

The Rat Tunnel deserved its name.

Most tunnels are essentially long, smooth archways, cutting through hills and mountains or under rivers and cities. This one, however, had been very crudely carved out by hand in the mid nineteenth century.

There were many urban legends about the Rat Tunnel. Sandy had never paid much heed to them, but it was said that people had vanished without a trace while checking the line inside the tunnel. It was also believed for a long time that fairies inhabited the tunnel, but that myth was busted when firefly concentrations were found nearby.

"Stay close, poppet," snapped Barbossa.

Sandy rolled her eyes, and picked up the pace.

The pirate had acquired a gas lantern from the tunnel opening (she very much doubted that he owned said lantern). Its red light illuminated the dark tunnel – which also made the whole thing even creepier, really.

"So?" asked Sandy, "What kinda 'hellspawn' 'sposed to be in this tunnel, anyway?"

"The fair folk," replied Barbossa, "The fae, the people o' peace…"

"Fairies?" Sandy scoffed.

"Arr, and it'd do ye well to take heed o' them," continued Barbossa, "If they be feelin' carnivorous, they can skin ye alive."

"I think you're thinking of piranhas," sighed Sandy.

"No," smirked Barbossa, "Piranhas don't fly."

He glanced ahead.

"Hold," he ordered.

Sandy stopped, and glanced at the walls. Red lights were slowly blinking into existence around them, like a distant blacked-out city coming back on.

Barbossa looked grim.

"Fireflies?" guessed Sandy.

"Unseelie," replied Barbossa.

"Un_what?_"

Barbossa drew his sword.

"That'd be 'bad faerie' in layman's terms," he breathed, "Can ye fight?"

"Yeah, why?" asked Sandy.

"'Cause ye'll be needin' to…"

Barbossa whipped out a flintlock pistol and fired.

All of a sudden, the red lights dived on the group. They landed on Sandy's fur, their very touch stinging her as she tried to wave them off. The dog began to bark.

Barbossa swung his sword in the air around him, lights going out en masse as he struck them. Realising that these 'Unseelie' didn't take well to brute force, Sandy began to chop the air around her. Before long, the tunnel was dark once more.

"Well," noted Sandy, "That was easy."

There were the sounds of footsteps from down the tunnel.

"…they were just scouts," said Barbossa.

"Oh."

Just before them, literally fading into existence, were three dark, indigo figures. The middle one was a refined looking fellow with a manacle – the fact that he was flanked by a woman that looked like a hick and a bucktoothed, cross-eyed man in a lumberjack's uniform.

"Hector," the leader sniffed, "What brings you here?"

"I be guiding this lass through the tunnel," replied Barbossa, "If ye've a problem with it, Anti-Cosmo, ye'd do best to speak."

"I do, actually," nodded Anti-Cosmo, "This is my land. We may have an agreement, Hector, but it doesn't extend to 'extras'."

"_THAT'S ROIGHT!_" bellowed the man on the right.

Anti-Cosmo punched him in the face, knocking him out.

"But this is not an extra," explained Barbossa, "In fact, _I_, being a guide, be _her_ extra."

"Don't try to twist our logic, Hector," snapped Anti-Cosmo.

"If ye thought I be makin' a poor point, ye'd have killed her by now," replied Barbossa, coolly.

Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow.

"Well, do you have a good point, then?" he asked.

"Aye," nodded Barbossa, "Show 'im the watch."

Sandy blinked, before pulling out the watch. Anti-Cosmo looked at it for a moment.

"It's a pocket watch," he sniffed, "What's so important about…"

"Don't be lookin' at the watch, Anti-Cosmo," said Barbossa, "Look at the _aura_."

Anti-Cosmo squinted his eyes. He gasped.

"…that can't be right," he exclaimed, "That-that's from Ger…those shouldn't even _exist_ anymore…"

"Stand aside, Anti-Cosmo," ordered Barbossa.

Anti-Cosmo gulped, and stood aside. Apathetically, Barbossa walked past, and Sandy quickly followed. As she passed Anti-Cosmo, she heard a hiss.

"…you're looking for a friend?"

"Yeah," replied Sandy, "How do you…"

"Use the watch well."

Then, the 'Unseelie' were gone.

* * *

><p>Sandy, Barbossa and the dog looked out over the Pinner Valley from the other side of the Rat Tunnel. The snowy valley extended for miles, and she still had to descend the mountain. She couldn't even <em>see<em> the train.

"This is as far as I can take ye," said Barbossa, "From here on, ye're on yer on."

"How the heck am I supposed to find the train?" demanded Sandy.

"Well, ye can't follow the line," replied Barbossa, "It'll be iced up; ye'd slip to yer death. Try the river, it follows the line downhill."

"Okay," nodded Sandy, as Barbossa began to stride away, "Oh, and stranger?"

The pirate stopped, and looked back.

"Thanks," thanked Sandy.

Barbossa nodded, and walked away.

Sandy looked at the dog.

"Well, on we go," she nodded, "Lets go find this river…"

* * *

><p>This chapter took so long and I'm glad it's finally done. :|<p> 


	6. Chapter 5: Clock Ticking

Tardy update is _very_ tardy.

I'm not sure if I'll continue this to the end (this year, anyway), but I'd figured I'd give it a chance at least. My idea is to post this and my other Christmas story idea and let you guys decide what I continue.

A reference to a show I watched as a kid here - fifty nothings if you can guess what it is!

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** A reference to Ferdinand - you know, that guy I moan about all the time. Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** Quite observant, isn't he? :D Also, yes, it is indeed a reference. Thanks for reviewing!

**aslan333: **Thanks.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well obviously it tells time. =P Just kidding, you'll see. Thanks for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Clock Ticking<strong>

"You can't use that!" exclaimed Laura.

"Like heck I can't!" snapped E3, "_Panzerkampfwagen!_ It's a word! I win!"

"Oh yeah?" demanded Laura, putting down more letters, "_Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerych wyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogo ch_ – _I_ win!"

"How did this even happen?" deadpanned Squidward, "How do these words even fit on the board?"

"Forget about it," groaned Laura, rolling her eyes, "MegaScrabble's boring, anyway."

"Well, we're still snowed in," sighed Squidward, "This is gonna be the best Christmas ever…"

"We could try karaoke," suggested Laura, "Anyone know any songs?"

"_Baby, It's Cold Outside_?" E3 suggested.

"No," deadpanned Squidward.

"Alright, how about something a bit more mainstream?" E3 asked.

"Like?" urged Squidward.

"_I'm caught in a trap…and I can't walk out…_"

E3 ducked as Squidward threw a Scrabble tile at him.

"Alright, karaoke's a _bad_ idea," nodded Laura, "Let's check what's on TV…"

She walked over to the closet and pulled out an old, battery-powered TV. She pressed the power button…

_…what a crazy fluke, we're gonna get nuked, on this jolly holid…_

…and turned it off again.

"Okay, new idea," she nodded, "Let's just sit quietly and wait for help."

Squidward buried his head in his hands.

* * *

><p>The river was calm and serene under the starry night sky as it descended down the ridge into the Pinner Valley. The current moved at a steady pace – it'd be brilliant conditions for rafting.<p>

Unfortunately, Sandy didn't have a raft.

She and the dog stumbled along the rocky riverbank, trying not to slide off and land on the sharp rocks in the river shallows. On the bright side, however, the blizzard had relented for the time being, so at least they could see.

"Allo!"

Sandy nearly jumped out of her fur as a two-tone whistle erupted from behind her.

A small, paddle-wheeled tugboat was ambling down the river, towing a small barge. Strikingly, it had a hat and freckles. This was not a sight that Sandy had seen before.

"Uh, did I go crazy or something?" quizzed Sandy, "I mean, first fairies and now there's a boat with a face talkin' to me…"

"Oh, you haven't gone crazy," grinned the boat, "You're from that village, in't you? Don't often go up there and…"

"Yeah, that's great, but I gotta get going," nodded Sandy.

"Want a lift?" asked the boat, "It's a ways to go to get into the valley. C'mon, climb on."

"Uh…alright," shrugged Sandy, as she and the dog climbed onto the barge. As she climbed on, she caught the name 'Billy Shoepack' on one of the wheel arches.

"Oh, and one thing," said Billy, calmly, "You might want to hang on."

"Why?" asked Sandy, suspiciously.

"Well…I'm supposed to be clearin' the river, y'see," replied Billy, "And I'm usually in the business of…well…dynamite, actually."

"Wait, _what?"_

There was a loud bang from high above.

"Alright, hold on, here we go!" exclaimed Billy, as the current began to carry him along, "This is gonna be a _blast…"_

* * *

><p>"You've <em>got<em> to be kidding me," groaned Simmonds.

The snowblower was stuck. Behind it, the engine heaved with all her might, but the machine didn't budge. Barney was sitting to the side of the snowblower's cab, downing a can of beer but otherwise being unhelpful.

The Major shook his head and turned to the engine driver.

"How far are we?" he asked.

"Three miles from Box 19," replied the driver, "From there, it's ten miles to the next signalbox – they could be anywhere in that section."

"Temperature?" quizzed Simmonds.

"Fine now, but it's ready to drop below freezing by midnight," said the driver.

"Thanks," nodded Simmonds, "Keep going as is for now."

The driver nodded, and walked away.

"...now can somebody dig out that blasted snowblower!" shouted Simmonds.

* * *

><p>"Wha' you mean we go' no coal?!" thundered Coulter.<p>

"The hopper was badly secured," replied Aaron, "We've dropped most of the coal behind us."

"Well, then we'll 'ave to make do, won't we boy?" snarled Coulter, "Go to th' van and start tearin' up the floorboards – chuck 'em on the fire."

"Why don't you?" demanded Frankie.

"'Cuz I bloody well said so, that's why!" spluttered Coulter, "Now get in'o gear before I get angry!"

Muttering to herself, Frankie stormed out. Aaron followed, shooting his driver a glare. Coulter didn't care – he was watching the fire, making sure it didn't die. He gave the gauges a cursory glare.

"Hmm...need to cu' on our steam usage, I think..."

He got up and began turning a valve.


End file.
